


Correcting the Misconceptions

by ashitanoyuki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10.05, 10x05, A fanfiction about Fan Fiction which dealt with fanfiction, Drabble, Episode: s10e05 Fan Fiction, Gen, Season/Series 10, This show is so ridiculously meta, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2608199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashitanoyuki/pseuds/ashitanoyuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They can have their own interpretations, and that's...nice. Kinda sweet, if really weird. But when Dean takes a peek at existing Supernatural fanfiction, he's left very uncomfortable. It's time to correct the misconceptions and post some work of his own--with what ACTUALLY happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Correcting the Misconceptions

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not the only one who would be mortified if the Winchesters were real and read my fanfiction, right?

“Robots and tentacles and ninjas. In space,” Dean muttered, shaking his head, a tiny smile _decidedly not_ gracing his lips. Man, he’d kill for that to have been his past few years. A Hell of a lot more pleasant than Eve and Leviathans and Metatron and Abaddon and all that other crap. Though, Dean thought to himself, he could do without becoming a chick, for any length of time. And why was _he_ the one who got turned into a girl, not Sam? Sam was the one who liked salads and theater and all that other girly crap.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his fingers lax on the keyboard as he stared at the computer screen, trying to work up his nerve. “This is stupid,” he grumbled, typing quickly, before he could chicken out. _Username: DeanWinchester._

_Username unavailable._

Dean grimaced. “Really?” Someone was using his name, attaching their “fan fiction” to _his_ name. So screwed up. So… Oddly flattering.

No. Not flattering, he told himself firmly. Weird. Definitely weird.

_Dean_Winchester. Dean_Winchester_Hunter. DeanWinchesterHunter. Impala. Chevrolet_Impala. 1967_Chevrolet_Impala. Stop_Stealing_My_Name._

_Username available._

Well, damn. Looked like he was gonna be online under the handle _Stop_Stealing_My_Name._ Great. Fan-freaking-tastic.

And now what to do? Dean hesitated, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder. Yep, Sam was still passed out in one of the motel’s beds, completely dead to the world. Okay, he could do this. No one ever needed to know.

Three hours later, and Dean’s head was swimming unpleasantly with all the _weirdness_ he had just consumed. That story where he and Sam hunted down a coven of witches, that one he could stomach, even if the lore was completely inaccurate. And okay, that one completely out-there story where he was a barista, of all things, that could have been worse—though even if those fans were right about “Destiel” (and they _weren’t,_ damnit, absolutely not, no way) he wouldn't be caught dead drawing a heart in caramel on someone's coffee,especially not _Cas's_. So completely not how he would handle that situation.

Some of it was just too weird. Dean had no idea what the hell “omega verse” was supposed to be, but reading the summary of one of those stories was enough to make his stomach lurch in horror. And why the hell were there so many stories about his brother as the “Boy King” of Hell—was that really something the fans _wanted?_ And that story with the tentacles—ugh. He needed a shower. The idea of tentacles had been much more entertaining in the musical, not in this, this bastardization of a Japanese porno, starring _him,_ of all people.

Bad enough to have books written about his life. But this was what the fans did with them? Screw a shower, he needed to go bleach his brain.

Someone had to set these crazy kids straight, before they wrote another story involving, say, Cas naked on the Impala covered in whipped cream while Dean—no. Just no. It was way too much, way too weird. Creepy, even.

Scowling, Dean opened a word document and glared at the computer screen. Their lives were already out there on the internet, and crappy as that may be, there was no getting rid of it. Forget tentacles and robots and coffee shops—if people were that invested in their lives, they might as well know what _actually_ happened. Drifting back to his memories of just after Sam leapt into the cage, Dean took a deep breath, and began to write.


End file.
